


Late Night Understandings

by albaparthenicevelut



Series: The Good Ship Avenger [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Space, F/F, Female Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albaparthenicevelut/pseuds/albaparthenicevelut
Summary: Natasha is doing her best to avoid Tony. Tony is doing her best to adjust to life on the Avenger in the wake of crushing betrayal. At some point they're going to have to meet.





	

Tony Stark has been on board for nearly two months by the time Natasha talks to her for the first time. It isn’t that she is afraid of Stark precisely. Stark is a part of Natasha’s past. A figment of the bad old days when she was a million women at once and nobody at all, when she was the deadliest assassin in the known systems and somebody’s puppet.

It has taken Natasha a long time to get to this place where she protects, nurtures, and builds, where she wakes up every morning and goes to sleep every night with the clear knowledge of who she is. It wasn’t easy. Being around Stark feels like stepping back in time. So yes, she manages to avoid Stark until two months. Then, as usual, Stark throws a wrench in the entire thing.

Natasha is walking to her bunk after a late night spent playing cards and shooting the shit with Clint. She is tipsy or as close to tipsy as she gets and maybe she is a bit more open than usual. As she passes the galley she happens to poke her head to say good night to anyone who might be in there. Stark is sitting there alone, lights on dim, hunched over a bottle of Andorran scotch. Natasha makes to inch out but it is too late Stark is already looking up.

“Hey,” Stark says quietly. “Haven’t seen you much.” Her voice is clear and she’s upright but something about the look in her eyes (not to mention to level of liquid in her bottle) suggests to Natasha that she is wasted. Natasha cocks her head to the side.

“Don’t take it personally,” she replies. Stark shrugs, gestures loosely at the bench across from her.

“Well sit down. I could use a distraction. I’ll share my booze,” she says. Natasha raises an eyebrow.

“Pretty sure that’s Barton’s booze,” she says but even as she says it, she is moving closer. Stark waves a hand clumsily. Dismissing the statement.

“I’ll get him another.” She said. Natasha doesn’t ask with what money. Stark has already started making a place for herself in the crew, by fixing up the engine and the ancient ship AI. It (he) calls itself JARVIS now and is unnervingly sentient but at least it doesn’t seize up and nearly steer them into oncoming objects anymore.

Natasha sits down, grabs the bottle out of Tony’s hands, and takes one long swig. When she sets the bottle down Tony is watching her head cocked to the side. Her dark eyes are far too sharp for comfort.

“You don’t like me,” she says.

“I don’t dislike you,” Natasha replies.

“Liar,” Tony shoots back. Natasha shrugs.

“I don’t. I just don’t like being around you very much.”

“Ouch,” Tony says, wincing exaggeratedly. “You don’t pull your punches, do you?”

“Not if I don’t have to. No.” Tony makes grabby hands and Natasha takes another long swig before handing the bottle back. Between this and the drinks with Clint she is really starting to feel it. Not enough to be sloppy but perhaps enough to be a little less guarded.   
“I like you,” she says. “But you remind me of things I’d rather not think about.” Tony smirks. It is an ugly expression, bitter and cynical.

“That’s what alcohol is for. And sex. Speaking of,” she leans forward, “wanna fuck?” Natasha snorts.

“You’re drunk. I hate sleeping with drunk people. Too sloppy.” Natasha replies. Stark shrugs.

“Your loss,” she replies. Her voice is carefully dismissive. Natasha isn’t fooled. Stark is hurt. She stands, wavers slightly on her feet and steadies. She moves around the table to Stark.

“C’mon,” she says. She holds out a hand. Stark watches her, considering. Her eyes are large and sharp, weighing the offer, weighing her. Apparently she doesn’t dislike whatever she sees because a second later she is giving Natasha her hand.

Natasha heaves her up. They wobble precariously, clutching on to each other. Natasha feels the sting of those memories. Stark thankfully is oblivious.

She throws Stark’s arm over her shoulders and walks them slowly and waveringly to Stark’s cabin. Once Stark has been unceremoniously tossed onto her bed, she walks to her cabin to sleep.


End file.
